Down With It
by CherriiMarina
Summary: Some almost PWP fun from me, courtesy of a prompt from MegaNerdAlert. After the war is over, Hermione is seeking the perfect relationship - which is no relationship at all outside of physical release. Will she finally meet the person who can give her what she wants? Femmeslash. EWE. Definite M. WIP
1. Mysterious Minerva

**A/N:** I own nothing, save for my small collection of words and phrases. It all belongs to the creative goddess of our generation, which just isn't me.

I blamed my last one-shot on Jen/MegaNerdAlert, and in response, she challenged me to write a song-fic for My Darkest Days' _Casual Sex_. I won't include the lyrics, so if you haven't heard the song, I strongly advise you to look it up on youtube and give it a listen. In attempting to fit the lyrics and build the world Jen asked for, most of the characters I use will be massively OOC, though I try, as always, to leave the core of who they are intact.

This is predominately going to be a story for Minerva McGonagall and Hermione Granger, but there will be other pairings used, and most of those will be Femmeslash.

Definitely rated M for graphic sexual situations between two women, language, and discussion of illegal substance usage (not abuse). You've been warned – NSFW, and if any of the above isn't your bag, then give this one a pass and read the next one; I won't be offended.

This one is dedicated to my ladies in the HG/MM Fan Club on Facebook for all their ideas! Shout-outs go to: Willowezra, Snarky Granger, MagnusMagnus, Savannah Potter, and Eden'sEnd116. I say again that you ladies are rock superstars! I thank you profusely for your assistance.

This is un-betaed, so any mistakes are my own. See one? Please let me know.

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><p>Chapter One – Mysterious Minerva<p>

Five years after the fall of Voldemort, the world was moving on. Harry was an Auror, and was climbing quickly through the ranks, coming back to Hogwarts once or twice a year to give a speech on Defensive magics that would have made Moody proud.

Ron had helped George get back on his feet in the shop for a year before moving on. He'd tried out for a second-string Keeper position with the Kenmare Kestrels Quidditch team and been accepted. He got to play now and then, mostly only traveling with the team from match to match, but he was happy.

Hermione pursued an aggressive upper education program, achieving Masteries in Transfiguration, Charms, and Arithmancy, and putting them to use in the Department of Mysteries as an Unspeakable. It was a job that was shrouded in myth and mist, but in reality, it was just the Ministry's massive research division. Its members were only called Unspeakables because they were under strong charms which prevented them from talking about what they did at the risk of information leaking to the wrong people.

Her work life was filled with strict, organized order, and people who enjoyed research and reading nearly as much as she did, and she was fulfilled in her job.

However, her personal life was a whirlwind of chaos, as befitted someone who had grown up as the best friend of Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Died, and Lived Again. She had a string of ex-lovers as long as her arm, none of them able to keep up with her voracious appetites in the bedroom, or able to accept her casual, no-ties approach to sex. Everyone wanted a relationship from her, and she … didn't.

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><p>It started at yet another boring Ministry function. Three or four times a year, the Ministry held fundraisers for various charitable causes, and the infamous Golden Trio never failed to receive invitations. Kingsley would harass and harangue them until they agreed to attend, and for each one they'd missed for whatever reason sounded good at the time, donations had dropped by fifteen percent. The Wizarding world wanted to see their heroes and heroines, and these events were the only time one was virtually guaranteed to see them.<p>

On this particular night, the function was serving to raise money for Hogwarts, and so its legendary Headmistress was attending as well. Minerva McGonagall hated them with as much fervor as the Trio, but she put on a nice face to go with her nice dress robes and pretty, but very uncomfortable shoes, and she dealt with it. The school needed the money, and the proceeds from these nights at the Ministry helped pay her salary, making it infinitely worth her time to attend.

She was walking around the large room, a glass of champagne in one hand and a canapé in the other. There were never enough seats to go around, and she was supposed to be mingling and soliciting higher donations, but her feet were aching, so she ducked into the outer corridor and found a dark alcove, sinking gratefully to the floor, back against the cool wall. She popped the last bite of her canapé into her mouth and washed it down with the last of her champagne.

Slowly, she became aware of some odd noises coming from deeper in the darkness. There was the rhythmic rustle of stiff fabric, partnered with breathy moans and a quiet sort of squelching sound. Her heart sped up and blood rushed to her face as she realized she'd interrupted someone's illicit tryst. Well, not exactly _interrupted_… they were still going at it.

"Yes, yes, YES! There! More! FUCK." The words were punctuated with the sound of a hand slapping against the stone. "Just like that! Yes!"

Minerva's blush grew, and she wondered if she'd be able to get up and leave without them noticing. She didn't recognize the voice, but if she stayed long enough, she would see them leaving, and they would see her… or would they? She pulled out her wand and disillusioned herself quickly and quietly. Her throbbing feet didn't want to get up yet, and under the spell, they would finish and pass by her without noticing her at all. And best of all, she'd be able to keep listening and see who was responsible.

There was a pause in the movements as she whispered the incantation for her stealth charm, and she thought for a moment the jig was up.

"Goddamn you, bitch, finish what you started. I'm almost there." An eyebrow arched up sharply at the order, given with a haughty voice that could only come from a rich pureblood.

"If you insist," a second voice spoke up. The noises resumed, pace increased, and after a minute, a muffled scream issued out of the dark. "That was a nice distraction from the monotony of the party, but it won't happen again. Nobody gives me orders."

There was a huff and the sounds of robes being rearranged. "You were good, very good, but I've had better. Not worth dirtying myself with again."

"Liar," the second voice accused. "You've never had better and you know it. As for who's dirtying themselves, I'm afraid that was me. You're right about not being worth my time though. You aren't."

"Whatever."

Minerva caught a glimpse of silver fabric as Pansy Parkinson emerged from the shadows, looking for all the world as though she hadn't just been fucked against a public wall. She flounced by where Minerva was sitting, huddled against the wall next to the door, and huffed again as she left.

"That's a good disillusionment charm. You're very good. I hope you enjoyed the show."

Minerva didn't dare speak. How had they known she was there? Who _was_ that? The voice was vaguely familiar, but she couldn't quite place it.

"I don't know who you are, but I don't doubt you'll know me as soon as I come out. I would appreciate your discretion. Parkinson was a horrible lay, and I don't want anyone knowing I lowered myself to touch her."

Another minute passed as the mystery person straightened their clothes.

"Still no response?" She heard a sigh, and picked up her wand, flaming letters appearing in the air, spelling out, "I'll never tell."

A low chuckle came from the dark. "I suppose that'll do. Thanks." There was another pause. "You know … it wouldn't have been so bad, but I'm left in need. Fuck, it's gonna be a long rest of the night walking around this wet."

Minerva stood carefully, maintaining the disillusionment charm and stepped quietly into the darkness. Her eyes acclimated quickly, a side effect of her Animagus form, and she was shocked to realize the other party was Hermione Granger, dressed in a slinky red satin dress, falling to her knees in swishy folds. She could smell the younger woman's arousal, and her eyes narrowed in want. Again, she brandished her wand, writing out, "Lift your skirt," in flaming letters as before.

"Oh, shall I? You are a kinky one, aren't you?" Long, lean fingers pulled at the material of her skirt, bunching it up so that it rose a couple of inches, exposing creamy thighs to Minerva's gaze. "Is that enough? I still can't see you, but if you're a man, you should know I have little to no interest in what you have to offer."

Rather than using her wand again, Minerva's hand rose to trail delicate fingers across Hermione's soft cheek. Her hands tightened, raising her skirt another inch.

"No, those aren't a man's fingers, are they? Too small and dainty. I was right, wasn't I? Very kinky."

The pad of Minerva's thumb brushed over Hermione's lips before pulling away. Again her wand spelled out, "Lift your skirt," and this time, it rose to reveal a tiny pair of silk panties, darkened with musky wetness.

The tip of Minerva's wand traced the seams at the sides, undoing the stitches that held the scrap of material together, and the panties fell to the floor. She was well-trimmed, but not shaven, exactly the way Minerva liked things. Her wand flourished again, conjuring up a table, just the right height for Hermione to rest against for support, and Minerva's fingers pressed against her belly, silently urging her to do just that.

"Not," Hermione was panting softly with need as her arse rested against the cold wooden surface of the table, "that I'm complaining, but do I at least know you?"

"Shh," Minerva whispered, not giving away her identity.

"Oh gods, that's a yes, isn't it?"

"Shh." Warm breath puffed over her ear with the silent admonition, and her knees went weak. She didn't think she'd ever been this turned on. Her hands dropped the skirt, reaching to brace herself before she fell.

With another wave of her wand, the skirt rose on its own and flipped upward, sticking to the bodice of the dress. A fingernail scraped its way over a tight nipple through the thin material of the dress, and Hermione gasped, the muscles in her abdomen contracting, sending jolts of sensation lower to her center.

"Please, touch me. Please." She was normally the one causing others to beg, but she wasn't above doing it herself under the circumstances.

Fingers moved lower, nails scratching gently at the exposed skin of her lower belly, just above her glistening target. The warm scent emanating from the apex of her thighs was intoxicating, and Minerva's mouth was watering with the need to taste from the source. She knelt in front and used her hands to push the soft, smooth flesh of Hermione's thighs apart, leaning in and inhaling deeply, fingers squeezing involuntarily, leaving ten small bruises behind on the smooth skin and tight muscles.

She hadn't had the pleasure of tasting a cunt that smelled that good in years, and she couldn't stop herself any longer. Leaning in closer, she made one long, slow swipe with her tongue, and Hermione collapsed back onto the table, her arms no longer capable of keeping her upright.

_Oh gods, _Minerva thought, _she tastes as good as she smells. _

She dove back in with abandon, her mouth and tongue working on Hermione's clit, while two fingers drove into her tight, slick channel, thrusting in time with the movements of her tongue.

"Fuck!" Hermione was insensible from what the mystery woman was doing to her, hands almost clawing at her cheeks before reaching one down to press against the back of her head, feeling silky soft hair for only a second before everything stopped and the woman pulled back, causing a frustrated cry to leave her throat, "More!"

Minerva clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth reprovingly three times before more flaming letters appeared in front of Hermione's face, "No hands."

"Oh gods, whatever you want, but please keep going."

A dark smirk appeared on Minerva's face for a split second, hidden under her disillusionment charm. That's how one should handle an interruption; begging, not orders.

Rewarding Hermione for responding appropriately, she resumed her work, playing Hermione's body like a finely-tuned instrument. With nowhere else to go, Hermione's hands drifted up to her breasts and she caressed herself, picking and plucking at her nipples through the fabric of her dress as Fiendfyre raced through her veins, feeling light-headed as all the blood in her body rushed away and filled the hard little nubbin moving so deliciously under Minerva's tongue.

Getting ever closer to the edge of the world, her body started shaking, and a stream of profanity and encouragement poured from her mouth; words she would later not remember having uttered, too far gone in her pleasure. And then, without warning, there was a starburst of white behind her clenched eyelids, and she was thrown over the precipice, a scream muffled by her hand stuffing itself into her mouth.

In the aftermath, she lay on the conjured table, panting and so very sated. She hadn't had an orgasm like that in some time, usually finding herself on the other side, as earlier with Parkinson, and it was nice to just lie in the afterglow, basking in the pleasure she'd taken.

"Who _are_ you? I wouldn't be opposed to a repeat performance sometime. That was magnificent."

Again, Minerva smirked unseen. She stood and slipped back into her hated shoes, cleaning herself and Hermione with a silent wave of her wand, and straightening both sets of robes before reaching down to pick up Hermione's discarded knickers, tucking them into the hidden pocket along the side of her skirt where she normally kept her wand when it wasn't being used.

"Don't forget to Vanish the table when you're done. Fifty points to Gryffindor."

With the flaming letters in the air, she ducked back out through the door, leaving a bemused Hermione in the dark behind her.

Mulling over the words left behind in the air, Hermione managed to find her feet and transfigured the table into a tall mirror, making sure nothing was out of place before Vanishing it.

Fifty points to Gryffindor? Was the mystery woman a Hogwarts Professor? Which one?

There had never been a mystery yet that Hermione Granger couldn't solve if she put her brilliant mind to it, and this would be no exception. She was looking forward to the challenge.

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><p>I don't know exactly how many chapters this will end up being, but I'm almost finished with the third now, and I foresee only a few more past that. We'll see.<p> 


	2. Awful Alice

**A/N:** I own nothing, save for my small collection of words and phrases. It all belongs to the creative goddess of our generation, which just isn't me.

Bit shorter this time than before, and no smut in this chapter, for which I deeply apologize, but the next chapter more than makes up for it.

This is un-betaed, so any mistakes are my own. See one? Please let me know.

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><p>Chapter Two – Awful Alice<p>

In the days following the party, Hermione asked around and found that only four of Hogwarts' female professors had attended, the rest staying behind on duty in case anything happened with the students. The four who'd attended were Minerva McGonagall, the Headmistress, Septima Vector, who taught Arithmancy, Sybill Trelawney, who taught Divination, and Alice Oaks, the new Muggle Studies professor.

She immediately dismissed McGonagall as a possibility, not thinking the old girl had it in her to fuck someone so spectacularly and then just walk away. That left Vector, Trelawney, and Oaks, none of whom were particularly physically abhorrent. She didn't want to think that the bat Trelawney had been the one, because she just plain didn't like the woman, but the thin fingers could point to her. She would be shocked if it had been Vector, because although she'd been a great teacher, she just didn't seem the type. Although, she supposed, to most people, she didn't seem like the type herself for a hearts-off, hands-on approach to sex. She didn't know Oaks at all, as she hadn't started until after Hermione left the school behind, and so with nothing further to go on, she decided to start with her.

The Thursday following the party, she sent a letter via owl post to Hogwarts for Alice Oaks, professor of Muggle Studies, asking her to meet for a drink on Saturday at the Hog's Head. Aberforth's bar would be more sparsely populated than the Three Broomsticks, especially on a Hogsmeade weekend, and he never failed to have at least one clean and empty room upstairs if things went in that direction.

Saturday came, and Hermione showed up half an hour early, dressed in a low-cut sapphire-blue tank top that nicely accentuated the cleavage that only a Muggle push-up bra could give her, tucked into a pair of acid-wash jeans that looked as though they'd been painted on and showed off her legs and arse beautifully. Her hair was partially tamed into a low, thick ponytail, and her pedicured feet were slipped into a pair of flip-flops the same shade as her top. The overall look was casual and carefree, but sexy.

She greeted Aberforth with a bright smile and ordered Firewhiskey and a beer. They chatted amiably while he served up her drinks, catching up since her last visit. The two of them had remained on good terms after the war was over, Hermione enjoying the quieter atmosphere of his establishment over that of the more popular place down the street, and he admiring the fact that she, unlike most of the Wizarding population, wasn't afraid to call his late brother a manipulative old fool.

Oh, she saw the good parts of Albus Dumbledore as well, and sympathized with his pain regarding Grindelwald and the death of his sister, Ariana, but at the same time, she clearly saw his flaws, and after having spent a year camping with no more information on what they were doing than a random sketch in a children's book, she'd become more than a little disenfranchised with his methods, a fact which Aberforth appreciated in her.

She slid the requisite coins across the bar and slammed back the shot of Firewhiskey, enjoying the burn as it went down and settled into her empty stomach, then carried her pint to a secluded corner table to wait for her date. Fifteen minutes elapsed before Professor Oaks stumbled through the door, looking timidly around her and blanching at the dirty and disheveled state of the barroom.

Hermione sighed. This woman would look more at home at Madam Puddifoot's Tea Room than even at the Three Broomsticks. Her long blonde hair was swept up in an elaborate series of knots on the back of her head, and she wore a brown ankle-length skirt with a twinset in some abominably unflattering shade of ochre, all covered by a serviceable black cloak lined in the same color as her sweaters. The whole outfit served only to completely wash out her already pale complexion, leaving her skin a deathly shade of bluish-white. This was definitely _not_ the woman who'd fucked her so deliciously the weekend before.

The woman picked her way carefully across the room, turning her nose up at every piece of straw and peanut shell on the wooden floors. When she reached Hermione's table, watery blue eyes looked at the chair with revulsion, as though just standing near it would infect her with flesh-eating bacteria.

"Don't worry. You aren't the person I was looking for. You don't have to sit." Hermione pulled a sickle from her pocket and offered it to the surprised woman. "Go have some tea on me. I'm sorry to have bothered you."

Gloved fingers reached out tentatively to take the coin as a high, nasal voice sounded from her throat. "But … but I thought you, um, wanted to have a, uh, drink with, um, me."

Nope, she thought, definitely not the right woman. She was just too meek and mousy and proper. Hermione drained the last of her pint in a long gulp as she stood up. "Like I said, Professor, you aren't who I thought you were."

"Well. Then, um, thank you for the, ah, tea money. Good day, Miss Granger." She turned and picked her way back through the room and left, relieved to be out in the fresh air.

Hermione shook her head and took the empty mug back to the bar to be cleaned.

"Y'know, I don't think she liked my place very much." Aberforth quipped from across the bar, taking the empty mug and dropping it into a washbasin.

Laughing, Hermione replied, "No, I think you're right. I almost guarantee she's rushing down to Puddifoot's, casting cleaning charms all the way. Too bad for her, though. She just doesn't realize this is my favorite spot in Hogsmeade."

"Oh, get outta here with that kinda talk, fool of a girl." He grinned at her, rolling his eyes as she walked away from the bar, winking saucily at him.

"See you next time, old man!" Still laughing, she ducked through the door and stepped back out into the street. Anticipating the possibility of getting laid again, she'd left the rest of her day open, and so now she found herself at loose ends. Hearing the excited chatter of Hogwarts students, she decided to stroll around the village for a bit and enjoy the joviality of the day.

She sauntered from shop to shop, peering into windows and gawking with the students, enjoying all the appreciative looks she got from male and female shoppers alike, winking at a couple of the older female students who couldn't tear their eyes from her jeans and watching as they flushed crimson. She drew the line at sleeping with those young enough to still be in school, but a bit of harmless mild flirting like a wink and a grin wasn't beyond her.

As she passed by Madam Puddifoot's, she dissolved into laughter when she spied the timid ochre professor enjoying a pot of steaming tea by herself through the window. She garnered a few strange looks at the display, but couldn't help herself.

Once she'd made a couple loops around the village, she admitted defeat. She was bored and had nothing and no one to do. Biting at her lip, she ran through her roster of regulars to see if there was anyone she could hit up for a night of dancing and fun.

There was Ginny, of course, but she was back off women for a while, claiming to be straight again. Why the youngest Weasley couldn't just admit she was bisexual was beyond Hermione's reckoning; there was no shame in liking both men and women. It wasn't her own preference, men doing next to nothing for her, but it's not like there was any stigma in the Wizarding world attached to alternate sexual orientations.

Angelina was usually up for a good time, but she tended to be a bit too clingy afterward, which didn't suit Hermione at all.

She almost purred thinking about her last tryst with Fleur, but Bill was back in town for a bit, and she was always off the market when he was home. It was only fair, since they were married, but Merlin, the Veela thrall was a marvelous thing when in the midst of a good session.

Parkinson was definitely off the ballot for good, and she was about to despair, running through available people she knew who'd be down with a casual shag, thinking she would have to end up going to a Muggle nightclub for a random pull, when she caught a glimpse of curly blonde hair even wilder than her own unruly mop.

Her lips twisted into a feral grin as she set off through the crowd after the woman; might as well take advantage of circumstances being what they were and try out contender number two.


	3. Sensual Sybill Part One

**A/N: **I own nothing, save for my small collection of words and phrases. It all belongs to the creative goddess of our generation, which just isn't me.

After seeing how long it's getting, and in an attempt to keep my Monday update on schedule, I've broken down the Sybill Trelawney chapter into two chapters. This one gets just a little bit heated, but the real smut is reserved for the next part. Even this much will double the size of the story, so I hope you all enjoy. Thanks for all the reviews, favorites, and follows.

This is un-betaed, so any mistakes are my own. See one? Please let me know.

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><p>Chapter Three – Sensual Sybill, Part One<p>

"Hello, Sybill. Fancy seeing you in here, of all places." Hermione had followed the trademark blonde locks through the backstreets of Hogsmeade, smirking when she ducked into the local Herbalist's shop before following her in.

"Miss Granger. I don't recall giving you permission to use my given name." Her voice was unusually clear, the pitch low, sounding tiredly resigned to the forced interaction with one of her least favorite former students. She looked over the top of her thick eyeglasses at Hermione, eyes widening slightly when she saw the way the younger woman was dressed and the slightly predatory gleam in her eyes.

"I suppose you didn't at that, _Professor_." Hermione slightly accentuated the title, almost purring the word out, further putting the purported Seer off-balance. "But then, I've never been the best at following school rules, have I?"

"No, I suppose not. Is there something I can do for you, Miss Granger? If not, I have things to do."

"Perhaps, perhaps not." She trailed her fingers across the dusty glass bottles on the shelf, glancing at the labels along the way. Most of what she was looking at was fairly innocent, mainly herbs used to burn like incense for their scents and their magical properties – sage, rosemary, lavender, and mugwort, for instance, but nearly everyone who patronized the shop was looking for another, less innocuous herb – cannabis. It was illegal in the Muggle world, but on the Wizarding side of society, it was completely legal, seen only as a non-addictive substance used for relaxation, and was treated much like alcohol. It was frowned upon to show up for legal proceedings and such under its influence, and its sale was limited to those above the age of majority, but otherwise, it was just another plant.

Hermione had long suspected Trelawney to be a user of the substance, but never had confirmation before today, and it amused her to know she'd been right.

"But what business does a Hogwarts Professor have in a shop like this? Still smoking the students out of your classroom with all the incense?"

"I do promote mental clarity through the burning of certain herbs such as rosemary, hyssop, and lavender, but I have never in my life 'smoked a student from my classroom.' Just because your own inner eye is tightly shut does not mean that everyone's is, Miss Granger." She sighed irritably, a puff of air escaping her lungs as her posture slouched a bit, reconciled to the fact that she would never convince the female member of the Golden Trio that being a Seer was truly a divine calling and that Divination wasn't the load of bull Hermione had been calling it for the last nine years.

Hermione dropped her hand, tucking it into her back pocket, and tilted her head to one side as she looked at the blonde woman in front of her. She didn't necessarily seem like the one Hermione was looking for, but there was something there that she wanted to explore. "Are there ways to open one's inner eye, Sybill?" She dared to use her first name again, hissing out the sibilant sound slowly and sensually.

Trelawney's head popped back up to search Hermione's eyes, looking for evidence of malicious teasing, and when she saw only genuine interest, she softly responded, "There are. The most reliable way is very … personal, though."

Hermione pulled her hand back out of her pocket and trailed it gently up Sybill's forearm, pausing at the elbow. "Could you help me with it? I would really like to understand." She watched as a lump moved in the older woman's throat, disappearing as she swallowed hard.

"You'd better not be playing me for a fool, Miss Granger."

"I'm not. I promise." Her free hand rose to mark a cross over her heart, and she was pleased to see Sybill's dark green eyes flick to her chest with the movement, her pink tongue darting out briefly to moisten her lips. This was going to be fun – and perhaps educational as well.

"I'll just need to pick up a few supplies then. I assume you'll want to do this now?"

Hermione pulled her arm back again, fingers caressing their way down Sybill's arm, causing her to shudder lightly. "If you're amenable, yes. I have the entire afternoon … and evening available." She released Sybill's wrist with a light squeeze and watched as another lump was swallowed down the thin column of her throat.

"Very well. Just wait here." She sounded more confident than she looked as she backed up a couple steps, stumbling lightly before regaining her footing and her composure. She bustled around the shop, picking up a couple bottles of oil, sniffing them to ascertain freshness and quality, and a large packet of charcoal briquettes used for burning loose herbs and resins as incense before striding up to the counter, asking the clerk for the rest of the supplies she needed, as those had to be weighed and portioned out. Several small brown paper bags were secured with white spell-o-tape and tucked into a larger cloth sack along with the oils, charcoal, and another, larger packet that was already fixed and ready for her. Hermione assumed this last packet was Sybill's regular order of marijuana, but it could have been anything really. Several glittering coins were handed over, and the bag was hefted up onto Sybill's shoulder and tucked securely between her arm and side.

The two made their way back up from the village to the castle, Hermione having been informed that a rented room would not do for this; it had to be somewhere extremely private, quiet, and well-grounded, and so they were headed to Sybill's rooms in the North Tower, where her classroom was located.

Hermione was enjoying the walk up to the school, allowing nostalgia to overtake her as they walked along the shore of the Black Lake. The squid waved a tentacle in their direction, and she waved back at the old creature, squinting a bit as the sun reflected off the calm surface of the water. As turrets and towers started becoming visible over the rise, Hermione could feel her spirits lifting.

Despite the carnage that had occurred here in the final battle, Hogwarts would always remain her true home in the Wizarding world, having been the first place she was truly accepted for all that she was. It was where she'd made her first – and best – friends, where she'd learned so much about what it meant to be a Witch and about how the world truly works, and where she'd had her first realizations about her sexuality and the far-reaching implications of that. It had been the safest place she could be, and at the same time, the center of so much danger and controversy surrounding her, her friends, and her school-day enemies. She had a connection with the old building and with its grounds; one which did not get reinforced as often as she'd like, but a connection nonetheless.

Once inside, they silently climbed the endless staircases, and Hermione was delighted to note that the structure recognized Sybill's status as a Professor and moved where she needed them to be in order to reach their destination with the least amount of delays possible.

They passed a few students here and there, and there were whispers about what she was doing at the school with _Trelawney_ of all people, but both women ignored them all, eager and ready to get down to the business of the day.

When they reached the North Tower, Hermione reached for the trapdoor that led up to the Divination classroom, but a gentle touch to her arm stopped her.

"Did you really think my private quarters would be through the classroom? No, the energy in there is far too hectic, even with the measures I take to try and keep things clear for my students. This way, dear." She motioned with her head to what appeared to be an empty stone wall, and Hermione followed, questions popping up one after another in her mind.

Sybill stopped and her fingers traced a tiny indent in the stone, pressing into it firmly as she stated her password, "_Amontillado_." The stone wall shimmered out of existence, revealing a plain wooden door with an arched peephole and a brass doorknob in the center. She opened the door and ushered a bewildered Hermione into a room that was completely unlike anything she had expected.

The walls were covered in wide wooden slats, light in color and polished to the high patina of very old pine. The floors were similarly covered, planks slightly narrower and stained a shade or two darker than the walls, with small rag rugs thrown casually about. The furniture looked worn but comfortable, and the air was clean and clear of any scents. There were two doors off the back of the room, which Hermione assumed led to a bedroom and bathroom.

Sybill set her cloth shopping bag down on a table and her confidence seemed to give out, her posture withering as she realized she had Hermione Granger in her private suite, which wasn't a situation she'd ever had the audacity to plan for.

"So, how shall we proceed?" Hermione prompted her, trying to bring back some of the confidence she'd displayed in the Herbalist's.

"There are several methods used to open one's inner eye, as I said back in the shop, but the most reliable, by far, is very personal and will require you to be naked. I'll understand if you choose a different method; I've gotten supplies for a couple of them, but if you do want to continue with that one, you can pop into the bathroom – that's the door on the right – and there should be a spare robe you can put on until we begin." Sybill had been rifling through the bag, unpacking all the little bags and bottles, and as she turned to hang the empty sack from a peg by the door, her mouth dried up and the cloth handles fell from her fingers unheeded, the bag hitting the floor by her feet.

While she'd been speaking – from the moment she said naked – Hermione had been undressing, and now stood within arm's reach of her completely bare and unashamed, clothes left draped over the back of one of her chairs.

"I don't need a robe for me, but if you'd rather I be covered…" her voice trailed off, waiting for instruction.

"No," Sybill squeaked out, "that's … that's fine."

Hermione again noticed, as she had in the shop, that Sybill's gaze seemed to come over the top of her glasses rather than through them, and going on a whim, she reached up to pull lightly at the arms of the thick eyeglasses, scooting them further down her nose. "Now then. I'm comfortable. How about we get you the same way, _Professor_? I don't think these are necessary, are they?"

"No. But people thinking I'm blind as a bat has come in handy in the past, so I keep them on."

"That's what I thought." She slipped the glasses the rest of the way off, folding them and setting them on the table next to all the bags of herbs. "Much better." Her fingers moved higher, brushing against the scarf wrapped around Sybill's head, one finger slipping underneath the edge to scratch lightly at the scalp underneath. "How about this? Would you be more comfortable without this?"

Sybill's hand rose and pulled Hermione's away from her head. "Let's not get distracted, Miss Granger. You are here to open your inner eye. Anything …else will have to wait for after. I've been waiting for the chance to do this far too long to give in to you before that." She took a step back and dropped Hermione's hand.

"As you wish, Professor. What shall I do next then?" She looked amused as she stared into Sybill's deep green eyes without the barrier of the glasses in the way.

Sybill breathed in deeply, steadying her nerves and willing the heat in her belly away for now. She rounded the small table and reached for her wand, conjuring a low massage table in the middle of the room, and a stack of tiny iron cauldrons on the table in front of her next to the packets she'd purchased in town.

"If you'll lie down on that table, on your stomach to begin with, I'll get everything else ready." Her confidence had returned and it rang out in her deep, pleasant voice, unobscured with the wist and false bravado she'd always displayed in a classroom setting. Hermione silently moved to the table and lay down as directed, resting her cheek on her layered hands as she watched Sybill at her work.

"You don't have any allergies, do you?"

"Not that I know of, no. Why?"

"I wouldn't want to burn anything that might cause you respiratory distress, or use an oil that would cause you to break out in hives. That would be counter-productive."

That made sense, Hermione thought. "Ah, I see. You should be alright to use anything you need to then."

Sybill nodded and reminded Hermione to just relax before getting started.

Each of the brown paper bags was opened and sorted on the table's surface. The iron cauldrons were laid out, and one of the charcoal briquettes went into each one. Over and over, Hermione heard as that deep, hypnotic voice incanted, "_Incendio_," setting each hollowed disc afire with her wand. With each one, there was a puff of smoke as the charcoal and saltpeter ignited and burnt through the initial phase, leaving them as white ash, hot and smoldering and ready to receive the herbs and resins necessary.

Each pot received a slightly different mixture, and soon, the air was filled with the complementary scents of the various substances. With a quick wave of her wand, the tiny cauldrons were disbursed around the room, surrounding Hermione with the lightly fragrant smoke. Unlike her previous experiences with incense – mostly from the classroom next door – this was far from unpleasant, and her skin was soon tingling from the smoke's effects. She was completely relaxed watching Sybill in her element, and a true appreciation for the woman began to grow.

Sybill was aware of Hermione watching her, but tried to shake it off so she could finish getting everything ready. She pulled an empty glass vial from a drawer underneath the table and began magically siphoning out small measures of oil from each of the jars she'd purchased as well as from a few others she summoned, mixing them all in the clean vial and shaking it lightly to finish combining them. The resulting mixture had only a very light scent of almonds and would be easily absorbed into skin without leaving it greasy.

"Alright, Granger," Sybill began before being interrupted.

"Hermione. I'm naked on a table in your sitting room; I think we can dispense with formalities, yeah?"

She sighed. "Fine. Hermione, then. Before we go any further, I need you to answer just one question truthfully, and believe me I'll know if you're lying." She paused, allowing the weight of her words to sink in before asking, "Do you trust me? Really, truly trust me?"

Hermione took a moment to ponder the question, warm brown eyes searching cool green. "Yes. I'm not sure why, honestly, considering our history before today, but yes, Sybill, I trust you."

"Alright then. Close your eyes, and do not open them again until I tell you to." There was a new strength to her voice, and Hermione felt stirrings in her chest upon hearing it. Her eyes flickered closed, and her ears became hyper-sensitive to the sounds in the room. It was very quiet, and she could hear the popping of the charcoal as the herbs and resins burned away. She could feel the air moving over her bare skin, and after a brief moment, she heard a quiet thump followed by the rustle of cloth from Sybill's direction.

Once Hermione's eyes were closed, Sybill began disrobing herself. First her shoes were toed off, followed by the brown corduroy skirt, folded and draped over the back of one of her wooden dining chairs. Her bright paisley shawl was laid over the top of the skirt, followed by the loose white poet's shirt that had been underneath it. Left clad in only her knickers – she never bothered with brassieres, not having much to support – and the scarf wound round her head, she took a moment to breathe deeply, grounding herself and ridding herself of the excess energy she'd built up with all the sexual innuendo that had been between herself and Hermione since she stepped into the Herbalist's earlier. Finally, the scarf and her knickers joined the rest of her clothing, and a whispered spell put her hair up in a very loose bun to keep it out of her way for what was to come next.

She flicked her wand and a soothing mixture of sounds began playing, the random clear, high note of a bell, and the sound of metal rods moving gently in a breeze, with a single chord held in the background, like the sound of the wind. She took the vial of oils she'd mixed and put just a small dab on her finger, rubbing it into the space between the arches of her eyebrows just above her nose, where the third eye chakra is located, opening her own inner eye for the next stage.

She closed her eyes and wove an intricate spell. Looking only with her third eye, she saw where the seven pillars of colored light shone brightly from various points on Hermione's body, some seemingly wide open, while others were more closed off.

The orange pillar was the brightest, most brilliant Sybill had ever seen, indicating that Hermione was very in touch with her sexuality, accepting all forms of the physical manifestation of love, both in herself and in others. The yellow was likewise open, showing that in as much as Hermione accepted everyone's inherent sexuality, she also had a deep appreciation for it, free of the notions of ego and expectation.

Even after what Hermione had said about trusting her, she was surprised to see how brightly the red pillar was glowing, indicating her full and unreserved trust of Sybill and the situation.

In contrast, the green and blue pillars were slightly duller; still bright, but without the brilliance of the lower three. As expected, the indigo pillar was very nearly nonexistent, Hermione's inner eye all but shut, and the violet pillar much dimmer than it should have been, likely as a result of the third eye chakra being so tightly closed down.

Opening her eyes again, Sybill took her wand and the vial of oils and moved to stand next to the table on which Hermione was laid. In a very calm, deep voice, she quietly spoke. "I'm ready to begin now, and you'll feel my hands on your skin as I get you to the proper state of relaxation to proceed. I just need you to remember – eyes closed until I specifically tell you to open them."

Already feeling very relaxed from the smoke and the music, Hermione replied, "Yes," indicating her acceptance of what was to come.

Pouring a bit of the oil into her hand, Sybill began at Hermione's feet, working every knot from her muscles and moving slowly up her legs, over her soft cheeks, and worked her way through all the muscles of her back and arms. Hermione's skin was softly glistening with the oil, and she felt absolutely boneless by the time she was done, and felt as though with the slightest provocation, she could easily fall asleep, but something was holding her back from reaching that state.

Sybill worked silently, the only noises in the room coming from the music and from the gentle glide of her hands over Hermione's skin. Her root, sacral, and solar plexus chakras were already wide open, negating the need for any further action there, so with a soft word of warning and a whispered spell, Hermione was flipped to lie on her back, and the process began anew, her front side receiving the same massage treatment as the other side had just done. Once every inch of Hermione's body had been thoroughly explored and massaged and relaxed by Sybill's hands, she felt as those strong fingers pressed against the space between her breasts, a series of whispered words spreading warmth from the point of contact inward and then radiating out to the rest of her body.

"Repeat after me, please, visualizing brilliant green light streaming through your body where I'm touching it. _I am open to giving and receiving unconditional love._" There was authority in her voice, and Hermione was so relaxed and warm, she couldn't help but comply, her voice coming out breathy and soft. At once, she could feel that overall warmth return to become that pillar of green light, jutting proudly forth from the point of contact. She suddenly felt as though the negativity and hatred she held for certain people was unnecessary. She was, in that moment, capable of loving anyone completely and without reservation.

The fingers moved away, trailing upward to rest at the base of her throat, where the tendons formed a hollow. Again, Sybill whispered those soft words and the warmth spread out from her throat this time. "Repeat after me, please, visualizing brilliant blue light streaming through your body where I'm touching it. _I express my sexuality in a positive way._" As before, Hermione did as she was told, feeling as those feelings of boredom faded away, leaving her excited about every aspect of her sex life, the brilliance of the blue light brighter than sapphires.

Sybill could see that the violet light was already much brighter, but the dim nature of the indigo column was still holding it back from its full potential. Here was where the majority of her work would have to go in.

"This time will feel a bit different, as this is where my focus will have to sharpen in order to do what you've asked, so just remember to stay still, stay relaxed, and above all – no matter what you may begin to see – keep your eyes closed. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

Sybill leaned down and began by pressing her lips against the flat plane of bone and skin that covered the Third Eye chakra. Then she took two fingers from each hand and laid them over the same area, beginning a soft chant, the same words she'd only had to say once for the other semi-blocked chakras repeated over and over in her fight to open this final portal and bring Hermione into full harmony. Finally, sweat beading along her hairline and along the top of her lip, she got it open to the point where it was now Hermione's turn to do her portion.

"Remembering to keep your eyes closed, please repeat after me, visualizing the most brilliant indigo light you can imagine streaming from this point of your body and from within your soul. _I am open and experience full harmony with myself, my partners, and the world. I wish to see beyond what my two eyes can see. I am open and harmonious._"

Hermione repeated the words and had to fight to keep her eyes closed. She began to see, from this point between her brows, the columns of light Sybill had been talking about, and they were beautiful. As her head tilted backward, she could see the brilliance with which all of the older woman's own chakras shone, and she wanted to bask in the light. Gods, had she been missing out on this for all these years? What else had she been so terribly wrong about?

"There we go, Hermione, you've done perfectly, and everything seems to be open and aligned now. If you want, you may now open your eyes and see the world as it truly is rather than the way you've been seeing it."

Her eyelids cracked upward, and she gasped with the wonders she hadn't been able to see before. With everything so open, she could almost see the currents of air as it swirled around the room. Everything had a colored aura around it, and she sat up, legs dangling from the edge of the massage table, analyzing them all, reconciling the two different images she saw.

Her head turned to follow an eddy surrounding a tiny dust mote, and caught sight of Sybill again, this time with all of her eyes. There were bands of color surrounding her body, one the brown of Terracotta, followed by one of Salmon, Pale Green, then Pale Blue followed by a bright Indigo, Silver, and an overwhelming White as the outermost ring.

Searching back through her knowledge of color associations and how they pertained to Arithmancy, she could see where all of them would fit with her new perception of Sybill Trelawney. How could she have ever thought this woman was a fraud? Seen this way, she was stunning, and as she sat and gawped, a narrow band of Iridescent Pink began growing close to the Seer's body … her naked body? She blinked. When had that happened?

Now that she was open, Sybill was shocked at how many bands of color were layered in Hermione's aura. There were multiple shades of each color, each having a different meaning, and all leading up to one of the most complex people she'd ever had the pleasure of reading. She felt as Hermione's eyes raked over her, and that pit of warmth in her belly that she'd been suppressing roared back to life. She'd never before considered the girl's attractiveness, but with both of them alive, awake, and open to the world around them, not to mention naked, she couldn't help but feel something.

Hermione licked her lips, anticipation starting to buzz over her skin, tightening the pores and causing goosebumps to raise themselves along her back and her belly. She could see the part of Sybill's aura that indicated her growing desire, and she silently questioned if Sybill could see hers.

She could, and she wondered at its presence. She'd seen that particular shade in auras before, but rarely in response to herself – not that she was inexperienced or any kind of prude, but she wore a mask for the public, and few people bothered to look past it.

Hermione's hand reached out tentatively, undoing the knot she'd tied her hair into, and marveling at the riotous blonde curls that spilled over her pale shoulders. The mass was bigger and seemingly wilder than Hermione's had ever dared, but it was soft and full where her own hair tended toward bushiness and brittle strands without the interference of potions and charms. She tangled her fingers in it, using gentle pressure to move them closer together, eyes locked together. When they were a hair's-breadth apart, lips nearly touching, she whispered huskily, "Do you want this?"

Sybill groaned and replied, her voice thick and liquid like warm honey, "Gods yes."

* * *

><p>I know it's an evil place to leave you hanging, and fans of HermioneMinerva may be about ready to murder me by now, but I said at the beginning that other pairings will crop up - give another listen to the inspiration song; it's not about being with just one person for the rest of your life. It's more about the freedom to explore all your options while still getting what the two of you need while maintaining a connection.

You can find more information on the chakras and the colors associated with auras by googling. The iridescent pink I talk about is the color that, by most of the accounts I've found, means sexual desire. The affirmations I used for opening the chakras are based on information I found on mindbodygreen dot com, though I've tweaked them a little to better fit what I have going on in the scene.

I may or may not update on Monday again next week. I've had most of this written since before I started posting, but my suddenly reappearing social life is starting to interfere with writing time, and only part of the next chapter is complete as of right now. I'm going to try my best to get some more work done so I can post chapter four on time, but just so you're aware, it might not happen. I just can't put that kind of pressure on myself and expect good quality work to come out. Thanks for your understanding, and hopefully I'll see you all back here next Monday. ~CM


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